


Six Feet Underground and a Mage

by Anonymous



Category: Mobile Legends: Bang Bang (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Complementary Angst Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sent on a suicide mission, Gusion survives against all odds. But, not without leaving behind trauma, a rebellion, and somebody who loved him more than he had thought.
Relationships: Alucard/Gusion (Mobile Legends: Bang Bang)
Kudos: 12
Collections: Anonymous





	Six Feet Underground and a Mage

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, this is the complementary angst fic I make for all of my ships. Have fun :)

The very first thing that Gusion awoke to was darkness, and complete suffocation. He twisted his body for some leverage to figure out where he was, but felt earth underneath his palms, damp and freshly dug. He jolted up, but ended up hitting his head against the ceiling.

But what screamed at him the most was the fact that he couldn’t breathe at all, the air thinning out and stuffy, and his lungs couldn’t take in enough to fuel him. 

He was trapped somewhere underground, and he was going to die.

‘Get yourself together.’ He thought, briskly, pulling out one of his daggers, which shone with the afterglow on the mana he had used, like a glow stick, creating just enough light for him to see his surroundings if he squinted. Gusion’s theory was correct, he was trapped and running out of air.

Taking in the largest breath he could, he cursed as the light slowly died out. He tried to recall exactly what caused the situation in the first place. He didn’t have time to stay right now, not in the middle of the growing war.

Here he was, a perfect assassin, trapped. How did that happen at all? The job he had been sent out on was dangerous, the monster in question had killed almost a hundred at this point, but those were only groups of tanks and marksmen, with low mobility. 

The monster was slow, with terrifying strength, with skin like iron. But Gusion was completely certain that his blades would be strong enough to pierce it, if he added enough heat and melted through. 

Turns out his idea did work, perfectly, actually. He had sliced his daggers through the air, watching as they penetrated without fail. It wasn’t until he dashed forward, letting his mana create the thinnest bond between one of the daggers in the monster’s skin, pulling himself forward it an effort to bring the other blades he had prepared right into its throat, had he noticed the hand.

It was slow, as slow as they had said, and he easily dodged it. The kill would be as easy as cake. His blades had been prepped inches from another successful kill.

He didn’t know how the other hand got there, but one second he was flying through open air, and the next he was being slammed onto the ground, muscular fingers tightening around his neck. The demon had guessed where he was going to go, and had been slowly moving his hand right towards that area, before the fight even started.

At the end, Gusion found out where the troops that hadn’t returned had been kept. Underground. Cemented into the dirt as they bled out. 

Thump.

He hears it before he feels it. The soggy crackle of the earth, and Gusion subconsciously realized exactly what was to happen. He didn’t register it at all, yet.

Thump.

His arms feel a bit tight as his little bubble of limited air was compressed, and he shuts his eyes, feeling his breath trickle between the gaps of his lips.

Thump.

Thump.

Thum-

Gusion’s lightheaded one second, and the next, he’s being squished, the earth above him collapsing as he is completely trapped into the ground. The crackle continues, and he knows that the demon was stepping right over where he was buried, intent on killing him for good.

The pressure forces the air out of his lungs, his ribs and neck screaming under the weight above him. He tries to open his mouth to say something, along the lines of, ‘Damn bastard!’ But what comes out is a quiet wrangled rumble.

He needs to breath. He needs to get out of there. Everything began to close in on him, but he couldn’t push it off no matter how hard he tried.

There’s distinctive popping sound in Gusion’s chest, and breathing hurt, not that he could if he wanted to. He hissed, mentally swearing, thinking of all of the logical ways to get out of the situation.

Gusion was going to die, and he personally thought he had a lot of reasons to live. First of all, he hadn’t cussed out his birthgivers in front of the royal court yet. He hadn’t written down his technique to pass down to the next generation of magical rebels. Most importantly, he hadn’t talked to a certain blond haired man yet.

He refused to end it right here, in a place where they’d never find him. In fact, he was going to do everything he hadn’t. 

He didn’t want to die before telling Alucard- oh who was he even kidding? Dying just wasn’t on his bucket list in the first place. There’s another pop and his insides seem to churn.

In less than a moment, he feels his rationality slipping away, or rather, he doesn’t feel anything, yet everything at the same time.

Pressure, darkness, he was completely trapped with nothing he could do about it. Gusion feels cold, too cold, and he knows he’s shaking. His throat burns and longs for oxygen, and there’s a single slip up, where he looses control.

A soft, but rapidly growing, burning violet light builds up in his fingertips, and he begs his body to stop it. Gusion had said he was never going to use pure magic again, not as long as he lived.

He wouldn’t be living much longer if he didn’t, so maybe it would be an exception.

There’s a blinding light, and all of his senses are blown away for a moment. He’s met with a cloudy sky, a rain of blood drizzling over him, of the monster, now dead, as he lay in the large crater that he had blew up.

Pain meets him when he takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t care, his eyes shaking. He’s alive, he’s alive, and he stretches out, ignoring his bruised and sprained limbs.

Gusion almost laughs in hysteria.

— — —

Four days. Eight clock cycles. 96 hours. 5,760 minutes. 345,500 seconds.

“345,600 seconds.” 

Alucard turned his head, breaking out of his trance, and numbly accepts the cup of water the marksman handed him. 

Granger had been taking it surprisingly well, better than Lancelot and him anyway. They had all been friends with Gusion, who, as of the fifth day, would be proclaimed as a MIA. Alucard looked up, “I was saying it out loud huh... how did you know?”

“You’re not the only one counting.” Granger simply replied, setting the other glass down next to Lancelot, who was currently asleep, or more accurately, passed out. He spoke again, less factually and more quiet, “Don’t forget we’re heading out again tomorrow, and there’s the meeting. Get some sleep, you don’t want to look like me.”

Usually it’s Alucard who does most of the talking, Alucard or, or Gusion. It’s strange hearing his friend say so much for once, but it hurts more to think about what he mentioned. Tomorrow night was the last time they were permitted to search the assassin mage, and then he’d be good as dead in the administration’s eyes.

It was like the entire empire had decided that Gusion was already gone for good, even Tigreal. They were having a meeting with officials that Alucard would have to help guard, and more than likely they would talk about his burial, maybe a traditional magic ceremony, for a man who had vowed against it.

Alucard nods.

The night was fuzzy and he met the bland light shining into the room with a blurry mind. He borrowed some of the makeup that had been left in the bathroom, whether it had been from Granger, Lancelot, or Fanny was unknown, and covered up his dark circles and tired demeanor.

He doesn’t think of anything as he watched the coffee machine slowly heat up, the trickle of liquid filling his mug. Alucard doesn’t realize what he was doing until he was pouring the creamer into the second mug he had made, a mug with red stripes and a swan handle. He dropped it immediately, watching it roll on the mat below him, hot coffee spilled on the ground.

Alucard didn’t need to make two cups of coffee, he hadn’t for the last four days, and yet here he was again, holding the same stupid mug that Gusion always used and that he had belittled time and time again. He burned his hand wiping up the spill, and supposed it was payback for almost breaking the man’s favorite cup.

He’s hungry, very hungry, actually. But he couldn’t stomach the oily leftover takeout, and he’d personally suffered enough then to try to eat anything Granger made from scratch. 

The standard outwear for official events was white, with golden embroidery. Alucard used to find it overzealous and scratchy from the canvas they used, but as he shrugged it onto his shoulders, he relished in the itching, taking his mind off of everything for just a momment, before the sick feeling in his stomach returned.

Time doesn’t pass faster, more accurately, it passes in a blur. A slow, elongated blur, where Alucard knows time is passing by, but he doesn’t know what was going on. 

He should have gone with Gusion, he should have listened to the reports of the dozens dead. Even if Gusion was strong, and fast, he was still one single person against a complete monster. He knew the man was overconfident, so why hadn’t he trusted his gut and went with him?

“Legendary giant killer?” Gusion had laughed, as they bunked in Lancelot’s room for game night, a rare day that came once on a blue moon, where everybody was free and they could just relax. The assassin was currently bragging about the newest mission he’d been deployed on, “That’s gonna be easy, you’re buying me a drink if I come back with its head.” 

Lancelot, who Gusion had pointed at, looked offended, gasping dramatically, “Why me?” Gusion just smirked, and turned to Claude for the theif to give an explanation. (He wasn’t supposed to be in the city, much less in the military rooming, seeing how his face was practically plastered on every wanted poster) 

“I heard from a little birdie, that the thing’s horns...” Claude paused, holding out suspense that nobody really cared about. Looking at his friends’ unamused expressions, he pouted, “Are made of emerald stalagmites.”

Granger didn’t seem to believe the story, not like it was the first time Claude had lied, (everybody else, though, was listening in anticipation) “The demon is from the abyss, natural gem stalagmites only occur in the dark forest. That’s not possible.”

“You’re no fun.” Claude crosses his arms, and behind him, Dexter copies him, drawing snickers from Gusion, Lancelot, and Alucard. “Look at you, being a walking encyclopedia, huh?”

“Cut it out, boys.” Lancelot hits both of them on the head, just hard enough for it to sting, ignoring the mutters of “Ow! Mean.” and “The hell’d I do, I literally was just staring facts...”

Gusion had bit back his laugh, his lips quivering and those hazelnut grey eyes of his sparkling, as he started to speak over the reluctant grumbles, “Well, Claude, once I kill this thing I’ll be bringing you a horn.”

“You bet on it?” Claude leans forward and glares suspiciously, in a humorous over exaggerated way that he had perfected. At Gusion’s equally oversolemn nod, he drops the act, cheering, falling backwards onto his seat. 

Alucard, who had been just watching his friends go, trying to not bust out in laughter, finally joined in on the conversation with a more serious topic, “About that Gush’, you’re sure you’re going to be fine soloing this one?”

“Oh come on, when’s the last time I died on a mission as short as this?” Gusion leant back, and everybody laughed. The whole night, the rumbling, uncomfortable feeling in Alucard’s gut never left, and he wanted to confront him about it.

But he never did.

He clenches his fists, but what really brought him back for the upnth time that day was the mention of Gusion’s family- no, Gusion had stopped considering them his family a long time ago.

“The Paxley family has recently asked the Moinyan to help with certain... personal issues.” One of the fancy looking rich old men said, and Alucard couldn’t remember where he came from, only snapping up at Gus- the Paxley name.

“We’ve dealt with it.” It was somebody who was from the military department this time, as he also wore the white gold uniform. 

It took a few seconds for it to set in, but when it did, Alucard was more shocked than mad.

They didn’t send Gusion on a suicide mission.

They did not send Gusion on a suicide mission.

As corrupt and as terrible as the government of the Moinyan was, they weren’t going to just sacrifice one of their best assassins for a small city-empire like the Paxley land, as elite as their magic may be.

They wouldn’t, would they...?

No-

“Ah yes, good will, we’ll have a next matter to discuss.” A round bumbling geezer strummed his beard, holding up a script and clearing his throat, “26 casualties reported this week.”

Alucard tensed up, knowing what came next. He couldn’t help but grip his sword, and mentally try to control himself from the urge of breaking something into pieces. He could easily do it and nobody could stop him. His hands trembled, but he didn’t have the will to take a deep breath to calm himself.

“Among them, was one of the A rank assassins who oversees the E ranked warriors.”The man continued, his voice showing no importance nor empathy, and Alucard was almost certain he’d be committing murder within the next five seconds. Granger put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t feel it. The toad’s stash bounced when he talked, irritating Alucard to no end, “Gusion Paxl-“

His sword raised slightly, and Alucard didn’t know whether to drop it, or whether he would be able to drop it. He was so focused on decapitating  this fucking bastard that he didn’t have his normal reaction time to the object flying right at the large window right behind said man.

The glass shattered into pieces, flying everywhere, people screaming, ducking under cover and running towards the exit. Somebody yelled, “Do something, you hires!” And Alucard finally moved, running forward with his sword held ready at his side, feeling the others do the same. There’s somebody standing on the trashed window frame, swaying slightly.

He was too slow to properly land a hit on the person before they looked up, but perhaps it was fortunate, because Gusion Paxley in flesh and blood, raised his head to meet Alucard’s eyes, a shining green horn clutched in his hand.

“Hey. I... I’m here.” He said, a weak smile, before his eyes rolled up into his head and he promptly collapsed.


End file.
